


ACL

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [164]
Category: The Martian - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Injury, Mark injures himself on Mars, Permanent Injury, Torn ACL, back on the Hermes, limp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not radiation or lack of oxygen or starvation that does the damage to Mark. It’s a torn fucking ACL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ACL

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece from Tumblr.
> 
> The prompt was permanent injury/disability. I went with a torn ACL that Mark badly compounded the damage on, what with all the work he had to do to stay alive. Hermes is not equipped to help him as much as he needs.

It’s not radiation or lack of oxygen or starvation that does the damage to Mark. It’s a torn fucking ACL.

It’s an injury like a million Americans see their doctors for every year.

Of course, those million Americans do not typically compound the damage while working their asses off to stay alive on Mars. They don’t walk, run, jump, dig, and lift with that knee. For months, afterwards. 

It’s about a year, actually, and in the lessened gravity of Mars, it had been tolerable. Not good by any stretch of the imagination, but the combination of less gravity acting on it and the sheer need to keep going to stay alive, Mark has managed to push forward. But now he’s on Hermes–and he’s certain _twelve fucking Gs did not help his goddamn knee–_ and things are intolerable.

He mostly avoids the full gravity areas of the ship when he can, just because it hurts too much. He tries not to imagine what Earth will be like. Even the places when gravity is lesser, though, don’t erase the pain. He’s fucked it up, good and proper.

It’s the first thing he tells Beck about, before even spilling his current diet or the possibility of radiation poisoning. _My fucking knee_ , he’d groaned, and Beck had immediately set to work.

A million Americans are just fine after this every year. Maybe not running marathons anymore, but they’re fine. 

A million Americans do not compound their injury to the point where their doctor makes a sickened face he can’t quite hide when he sees the MRI.

In short, Mark can’t walk. They don’t exactly keep a wheelchair on a ship designed to effectively use every inch of space, so they’ve fashioned a cane for him out of a bedrail, and Mark hobbles around using that, grunting in pain, or slides around on his ass, flushing in shame.

Beck thinks maybe surgery back on Earth will help the problem. He’s not an orthopedic, NASA is trying to give him advice in their daily emails, but he’s apparently not going to try surgery outside of his field on something not life threatening. The Hermes is designed to handle a surprise appendicitis. Knee surgery seems a little above their paygrade.

Mark has some design flaws to register with NASA.

But in eight months, he’ll be back on Earth and maybe can get to an orthopedic surgeon who will give him a shot. Beck doesn’t want to get his hopes out, Mark knows, but he does say Mark is likely to see some improvement.

Some, but not all. 

He’s probably never going to be a runner again, if he even walks unassisted. Say goodbye to Underarmor ads. He’s definitely never going into space again, as if he even wanted that. 

He has eight months to worry about what kind of improvement he’ll see though. Until then, he’s left to hobble around the Hermes and not snap at his crewmates when they offer to help. 


End file.
